


How Strange, Innocence

by Onlyendsonce



Category: Red Rising Trilogy - Pierce Brown
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 20:19:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7771741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onlyendsonce/pseuds/Onlyendsonce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A glimpse at a morning in the lives of our victors, before fate and Gold expectations interceded. Set between Red Rising and Golden Son. Spoilers for both if you squint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Strange, Innocence

**Author's Note:**

> After reading Golden Son, I really wanted to know about what happened between Mustang and Darrow before he left for the academy. One tidbit in GS that stood out to me particularly was the part where Darrow was very nervous and Mustang tried to calm him by kissing him behind the ear a few times. I thought, well when did she learn that worked? And this fic was born. This is my first fic in a very long time so any comments would be appreciated!
> 
> Title is from an Explosions in the Sky album.
> 
> I obviously don't own Red Rising or either of these characters.

Two hours.

Two short hours since he’d poured himself into bed after a surprise practice session with Lorn. Four hours of arduous training made worse by his already late bedtime, the result of a near perfect evening with the person who woke him up.

His senses prickled with recognition. A light breeze blew in with the door’s opening, raising goosebumps on his bare back. A feather light step on cool stone floors. Almost imperceptibly soft breathing. Mustang. One of her father’s guards must have let her in.

Darrow fought to keep his eyes closed and tracked her movement around the bed. The bed dipped, the covers rustled as she scooted closer to him and came to a stop. Her breath blew across his face, so near he could smell her toothpaste, almost feel the tips of her eyelashes.

She held absolutely still for twenty seconds.

“Reaper, I know you’re awake,” she broke the silence flatly, her voice carrying only a hint of early morning scratchiness. Darrow groaned, then flipped to his other side atop the covers.

Sometimes, it was hard having her near, so integrated in his life but exempt from large, important parts of him. He couldn’t just say he’d been up all night secretly training in razor play and he could really use some extra sleep. He especially couldn’t voice why he actually felt he needed another skill in his bag, an extra leg up in his quest to fulfill Eo’s dream.

Oblivious to his train of thought, Mustang sought him out with her icy feet, tucking them between his calves. She knew he hated that. Darrow awoke fully then and made a sound between a growl and another, more pathetic, groan.

Mustang leveraged herself on one arm, peering over his back to look at his face. He was purposely screwing his eyes shut now to deny her a victory. Even though he could feel her breasts brushing against him and her chest moving in time with his. Astounding self-control.

“Rea-per”, she sing-songed. “Come on. Adventure awaits.”

Still no movement.

“Grumpy this morning,” she said, coming as close to mumbling as her upbringing allowed. Slowly, so slowly, Mustang leaned down and planted a soft kiss behind the shell of his ear. Darrow’s eyes popped open for a second. He couldn’t recall another time she’d been so tender or patient. She’d never been afraid to give him a good wallop and that’s what he’d expected her next move to be.

He heaved a deep sigh, conceding the victory. Turning to face her, he saw the smirk he’d grown accustomed to, the light playing over her golden hair, the spark in her eyes. He leaned down to grab a handful of top sheet and threw it over them, then settled down closer to her. This was how he liked them. Mustang and Darrow in their own little world. In a snow shelter or on Luna. All the same, all safe and secure.

They were eye to eye, scant inches between them on the pillow. The girl, the warrior, smiled, just for him. She reached a hand up to run a finger from the tip of his eyebrow to his jaw, resting it there.

“Ah, I found a way to soothe the savage beast,” she whispered. He tried to look cross but found he didn’t have the energy.

“Hello to you too,” he managed to rasp. “What time is it?” He already knew the answer but wanted to play the part.

“An hour earlier than I said we’d meet up. I thought we could run along the aqueduct before breakfast,” Mustang said confidently, eyebrows raised and waiting for his answer. Any other girl would cringe and blush, afraid of displaying uncertainty. Not Mustang. She’d just as soon go without him but always asked for his company.

“What if I want to eat more than I want to run?” Darrow asked through a yawn. His left hand twitched, begging to make contact with the lithe figure across from him. She wore light clothes for running that left little to the imagination. He scooted his body closer so they touched at the chest and conceded to his hand’s wishes, laying it on the curve of her waist.

With a smirk in full force and her golden eyes squinting, Mustang held eye contact while she reached down to grab one of his obliques. Pulling herself toward him, she closed the distance entirely and set her hips against his. She filled his entire vision, the rest of the world inconsequential. His next move could hardly be helped. Darrow leaned forward to kiss her soft and slow, a proper good morning greeting. Her hand drifted from his waist into the unruly hair at the nape of his neck.

Gods, she was intoxicating. Eventually, they came up for breath, grinning at each other like the innocent young people they would have been in a different time.

“Well Reaper, bringer of death, I think you’ve grown a bit soft in the last month. I’m fairly sure I could outrun you right now. Will you let that stand?” She wagged her eyebrows, ignoring the pleasant swirl in her stomach as he shifted against her. Darrow had forgotten he was tired.

They’d slipped between roles so easily in their short acquaintance. From congenial enemies, to each other’s saviors, then to trusted allies and council. This newest iteration, openly smitten friends exploring unknown territory, was his favorite. One he intended to hold onto as long as possible if she’d allow.

Deftly, he flipped them so he was on top of her, balancing most of his weight on his arms. She grunted at the sudden confinement then leveled him with an accusatory stare. Darrow grinned. Mustang, master of strategy, knew exactly how long she could push before he pushed back, knew when he was about to lay out a challenge and welcomed it. Grinning smugly herself, she wiggled her hips minutely, looking for a certain effect. Darrow pressed his lips tightly together. That line of intimacy was yet to be crossed but they inched closer by the hour it seemed.

Upper hand secured for the moment, Darrow delivered his rebuttal.

“I bet, even with a head start, I can beat you to the shore of the channel. Loser swims in it,” Darrow said playfully.

“Naked,” she quipped, a slow seductive grin appearing on her face. It wasn’t a question but an ante up.

“Oh, you’re confident then?”

“Absolutely.”

They held eye contact for all of five seconds and then simultaneously scrambled from the bed, grabbing, tossing, wrenching each other to the ground as they dismounted. Mustang made for the door, Darrow for his discarded shoes which were, of course, on opposite sides of the room.

“Darrow?” Her use of his first name, so softly spoken, caught his attention. One foot almost on the threshold, she crooked a finger, beckoning him near. He closed the distance in three long strides, only an inch between them. With a delicateness she’d never admit to, Mustang stood on her tiptoes, took his jaw in her hands and kissed him deeply. His eyes slammed shut, stars igniting behind the lids. Her tongue curled around his almost tortuously, twenty real seconds stretching into an hour. She pulled away, slid her hands to either side of his chest and looked into his eyes.

Darrow still struggled to breathe and, despite knowing her better than any other Gold, didn’t see her next move coming. Transfixed, he failed to notice her foot slip inside, then behind his ankle. With a gentle shove he would normally recover from, Darrow found himself sprawled on his back, tricked and tripped.

He let out a frustrated howl, scrambling back to his feet as Mustang pulled the door open

“Too easy, Reaper,” she threw over her shoulder, taking off at a fast pace from the adjoining courtyard.

He would have to sprint, full haul, to catch up and maintain his dignity. As he finally found his clothes, he thought the day was already looking up, sleeplessness or humiliation be gorydamned. The company was incomparable.


End file.
